


Doom Goretober 2020

by abbaquiche



Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, So yeah, uhhhh alright so i think im just gonna leave individual tags in the chapter summaries, well obviously yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbaquiche/pseuds/abbaquiche
Summary: based on xakumi's goretober. hopefully i can go through with this, even if i dont do all 31 days. lots of fuckin angst ahead i suppose. maybe some good things but a lot of bad things for sure. watch me vent through my writing lmfao.
Kudos: 13





	1. Day 1 - Loss

**Author's Note:**

> the tags say the most of it, pals. just good ol doomguy being angery and stuff. also it's prolly all over the place and im prolly not gonna like it but idc, im here to just write for the sake of writing something. also it took me like 700 words to remember that this is GOREtober but i hope i wrote some bloody stuff. good enough for the first one i say. if you leave a comment i will send lots of good vibes your way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a lot of angst with dg. spoilers for doom 2016/eternal i think! so watch out for that!  
> Additional tags: Angst (i love me some angst), Painful Flashbacks, Survivor Guilt, Hayden Is A Bitch, also some hints at unresolved platonic doomvega if you squint real hard

Perhaps, if he felt like talking philosophy with anyone, he would've made a fair share of derogatory jokes about how his entire life has been about loss. Perhaps, if the sound of his voice did not take him back to the coffin and the blinding pain and his own screams inflicted by the one he entrusted for the sake of saving his world, he would've been a tad bit more talkative.

All his life he fought for what he held close, and all his life he spent losing those things one by one. It's almost comfortable in its familiarity - the grim realization that nothing changed yet again, the memories flooding back even though he never wants them to, the disgusting pang of guilt and helplessness he hates almost more than the demons. He drowns out all of those in blood and bullets - it's his only outlet, his only way of letting his anger and pain roam free.

After all, he cut himself off from any other way to forget himself when he stepped into that coffin.

***

The usually comforting chime of Vega's voice isn't good for anything but inducing worry as of late. Back before the invasion he could almost forget about what he's been through and what he would inevitably face in the future. They were even starting to have normal conversations - as normal as it gets between a mute and an AI with no physical form, anyway. It's all far too different now. Sometimes he wonders if Vega really is worried about him, citing entire pages from medical encyclopedias about wound treatment for him when he returns particularly damaged. Sometimes, when he's advising him to be more considerate of his condition again, Slayer hears just a little too much care in his voice for an AI, as advanced as he's supposed to be. Something tells him this isn't going to last.

He leaves a note with the password to his old PC before going out on one of the missions for some reason. In the back of his mind he hopes that Vega wouldn't connect the dots, but the logical part of his mind denies that possibility, and rightfully so. Perhaps he just wants to be honest with the only friend he's had since he ended up in Argent D'Nur.

Hearing his name for the first time in decades makes his mind shatter to pieces in a way he least expects. He's suddenly back on Phobos, his radio silent with no one else left alive to use it, the growls of the inhuman creatures echoing through the walls. He rips and tears through pack after pack of demons, his gloves slick from demon blood and his clothes an unrecognizable brown, the usual green barely showing under the layer after layer of the invaders' remains. A fireball hits him from out of his sight, and he screams in pain as his bare arms go red and brown and black, the smell of burning flesh hitting him right in the face. He sprints up to the demon who stopped for just a moment to form another one and drags a rumbling chainsaw through its unnaturally thin torso, its jaws opening wide in a maniacally high-pitched laugh. A low growl from behind warns him of another creature still standing, and he turns out to shove his shotgun in a zombie's mouth and watch its head explode on the floor and the walls before lowering his weapon and finally registering that the mangled face of the once-alive soldier was painfully familiar. He remembers him - Shane Morgan, one of the few volunteers to go to Mars, he was one of the last voices he heard on the radio. The silence is deafening, the quiet _drip drip drip_ of blood from the barrel banging its rhythm into his ears.

_they would be alive, had you stayed with them._

...Vega's voice finally reaches him after what feels like an eternity spent in his memory. He comes to his senses, panting and looking around, while the AI tries to get answers out of him. His attempts are futile, however, as he's barely acknowledged at all - the Slayer shakes his head sharply at the navigation room camera before retreating to his room hastily. He sleeps in his armor that night.

***

Another hoard is reduced to a mangled mess of flesh and blood, and he wipes away slimy blue liquid from his visor. A low, pained rumble from somewhere to his left earns the half-dead demon another headful of buckshot, and all goes quiet safe for the distant rumbling and screams. All that is left here now is the sulfur-laced wind howling through the skeletons of the once intact buildings, waving over the decomposing remains of those killed at the start of the invasion. Pity is meaningless at this point, but knowing that their suffering has just begun rather than end with their life on Earth is enough to keep Slayer's anger burning. He's not going to let them finish what the Hell Priests have started. 

***

Hayden insists that the Slayer tend to his wounds more carefully, and if he didn't know any better, he would've probably thought it was an expression of genuine worry. But there is none, he's sure of it. Samuel was never worried about him, not for a second - his goals have always been (and, in truth, still are) his one only concern, and that's one thing he's never going to understand. He's not going to replace Vega, whom they had to leave on Urdak.

_"Am I the Father, Dr. Hayden?.."_

The words are still etched in his mind. Who the hell knows, maybe Hayden is the very _reason_ that the Khan Maykr decided to sacrifice Earth in the first place... No. No, it doesn't matter now. He felt it coming, and he still failed to distance himself from it. At this point it feels like he stopped even trying to numb the pain.

***

The Khan Maykr knows of what he lost, and she never misses an opportunity to remind the Slayer of it. He's sure she's very much aware of how those reminders make him feel - not that it makes any difference these days, not with her delusions about being able to influence his decisions with her 'I'm a god, obey me' argument. He's not going to stop, not until it is done. 

**Kar en Tuk! Kar en Tuk! Kar en Tuk!** , the chant of his fallen brethren repeats in his head as he slices up and shoots down and _rips and tears_ through Maykr drones as their ruler's hissing voice scratches at his ears. Their golden mask-like faces twist in pain and fear as he stomps their heads off and cuts through their insides, their armor cracking under his boots and on his chainsaw's teeth, before looking up to the clouded sky of Urdak to see Khan Maykr's wings spread across it and ascending to her, his hook way too fast for her to rip it out before he strikes her - again and again and again, an endless dance of pain, death and hate. The fight is exhausting, even for him, and it's not until her fall shakes the ground beneath him that he realizes the fight is over. Her words mean little to him, for he doesn't care about the fate of Urdak much longer. His mind is only focused on one thing now - return to Earth and finish what needs to be done.


	2. Day 3 - Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhere during the events of doom 1. i cannot stop thinking about dg having to murder his battle comrades turned zombies so here u have it ig.  
> Additional tags: some action (demon killin yayyyy), zombies, some pretty detailed gore... i think thats it

Sunsets on Phobos never bore much colour due to the lack of atmosphere and the dull grey of the rocky mountains surrounding the crater which housed the various buildings of the military base that had apparently suffered a sudden and devastating attack from another dimension. The radio has maintained silence for a while now, and Flynn figured there won't be any changes to that any time soon. Well then, now was as good time as any to see if his suspicions were right, and no one from his squad got out of this mess alive.

He pressed the door switch and went inside the control station, cautiously looking around. The growling to his left alerted him of the enemy's presence, and the first zombie fell awkwardly to his side after half his head was blown clean off with a point-blank shotgun blast. While the other two were struggling to get their weapons up, Taggart shot at the imp - that's what he called these creatures to himself anyway - that was forming a fireball in its deformed hand, but it quickly dodged the pellets, emitting a screech that made him clench his teeth. The other zombie growled at him but was quickly shut up as his half-rotten head burst like an overripe melon from just a punch, and Flynn used the third one as an undead shield from another imp's attack, quickly shoving the barrel under its chin as it swung its clawed hand to hit him before falling limp as its fangs scattered on the floor, painting the green and grey interior pink and red. The remaining imp screeched at him again and tried to jump away to attack from distance. Taggart reacted quickly, however, taking his chainsaw in his hands and charging at it, slicing it up before it could react.

After taking a second to catch his breath and shaking pieces of guts and bone from the chainsaw, he reloaded his shotgun and took the stairs, making sure to be covered after opening the door. Instead of familiar screeches and growls, however, he only heard weird gurgling sounds from the next room. A quick peek revealed an imp sitting down and feasting on what seemed to be a corpse - scooping out chunks of intestines and meat from the poor sod's torso, its jaws opening almost a full 180 before it shoved the disgusting meal down its throat.

It didn't take too much effort to close in on the beast - fully absorbed in its activity, it took just a little too long to notice the footsteps behind it - long enough to get its head blown clean off when it turned to look at Flynn. He kicked the ragged body away and turned to look at the fallen soldier. It didn't take long to recognize one of his fellow troops - even the patch with his name was intact, as bloodied as it was. Lieutenant Reyes, or "Ray", as he asked Flynn to call him, he was one of the friendliest to him since he was transferred to Mars - not a common thing, since the news about the reason of his transfer spread fast amongst the troops and not a lot of people approved of his actions. His eyes were half-closed, and Taggart reached out to shut them completely - it was the least he could do to honour his passing...

A low, raspy groan escaped Ray's throat, causing his subordinate to flinch away with a curse.

"Ray? What in the fu- Are you awake? Ray?"

He didn't get an answer. Instead there was another groan which slowly transformed into a growl - one too familiar to Flynn. He swallowed, well aware of what he would have to do if his suspicions were right.

Ray opened his eyes - rolled back, they were barely anything than bloodshot whites - and growled at the man in front of him once more, making him grip his shotgun.

As much as Flynn wanted to hold onto the hope of having someone from the troop survive the attack, there was now no doubt about what had happened. And yet he hesitated - right until what was once lieutenant Reyes gripped the assault rifle it was still clutching in its hands.

After making sure the zombie wouldn't be able to rise, he looked over what was now a definitively dead mess of blood and guts and turned around, heading for the exit on the other side of the room. He'll have to grieve later. Right now his responsibility is to prevent any more deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im this close to making a dead space marine oc (also follow my main and doom tumblrs @abbaqucihe and @s-o-s-on-earth for questionable memes and gorgeous art of various forms my friends make that i reblog 24/7)


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